


Satisfaction

by meowitskatmofo



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Sex, Lots of feels but still, M/M, Sex By A Dead Body, Smut, We've all played this game, You know Howe dies, sprinkle of feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 17:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowitskatmofo/pseuds/meowitskatmofo
Summary: The Warden's revenge on Arl Rendon Howe is complete; what now?





	Satisfaction

“Maker spit on you!” Arl Howe hissed, his voice bloated with the blood pouring from his mouth. He collapsed on the floor at the Warden’s feet, taking one last breath before finally succumbing to his wounds. 

Arl Rendon Howe was dead. 

The Warden stared down at the Arl’s corpse, still panting from the exertion of the fight. All around him lay the mages that had been in the Arl’s service, they were soaking in their own blood just as their master was. The Warden’s eyes moved over his sword, lost in the still fresh blood dripping from the blade. 

It was done. 

Arl Howe was dead. He was dead. 

The Warden had to keep repeating it, he could hardly believe it at first. His revenge was complete. He had done as he had sworn he would, he had avenged the death of his family. The man who had destroyed his life was now nothing more than a lifeless lump of flesh at his feet. 

And what did he feel? Was he happy? Was he finally satisfied? He had dreamed about this moment for months and months when he would finally sink his blade into that bastard’s heart. Now that it had finally come, he didn’t know what or how to feel except realize he was overcome by a consuming numbness. 

He was so lost in thought he almost didn’t feel Zevran’s hand on his shoulder, barely heard his voice as his lover whispered softly, “It is done.” 

The Warden dropped his arms to his sides, fingers slowly unraveling until his swords clattered on the stone floor beside the deceased Arl. The clanging metallic sound seemed to echo for an eternity, singing inside his head, and the Warden tried to focus past it. They had a mission to complete. Now that the mages were neutralized, they had to go free Queen Anora, they had to hurry. 

Zevran gave the Warden a gentle squeeze on his arm, saying, “Warden, you finally have given your family the justice they deserve. But think on them not. Not now. We have a queen that needs rescuing, remember.” 

 The Warden seemed to snap out of his daze, placing his hand on top of Zevran’s and squeezing it in return. He seemed to realize then their other party members were still in the room and witness to the small affection. Since the Arl had fallen, they had remained silent, trying to give the Warden a moment to collect himself. 

"I need… some time to myself,” the Warden said, his voice cracking from his angst. “I only need but a moment. Please. Get out.” The others seemed confused, even offended, but they obliged by herding themselves towards the door. They weren’t moving quite fast enough to the Warden’s liking and he found himself screaming, “Get out now!” 

Zevran watched their comrades file out quickly and the door slam shut, his eyes moving to address his lover with a tender gaze. He cared for this man, more than he would ever dare admit. Seeing him torn in such emotional turmoil made him uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to say to drag the Warden out of the ocean of pain he seemed to be lost in. 

Fortunately for Zevran, The Warden didn’t want words to comfort him. 

The Warden threw his arms around Zevran, burying his face against his neck. He was ravaging the elf’s flesh with his teeth, roughly moving his hands to the buckles of his armor. He wanted him, right here, right now. Even as the smell of blood was thick in the air, he wanted nothing more than to be with Zevran. 

Zevran tried to recall if he had ever been in a stranger sexual situation. He had been propositioned and had sex under many interesting circumstances. This one, however, was definitely in a class all on its own. The elf gladly obliged the man’s advances, purring softly as the Warden’s mouth made its way to his ears. He raked his fingers through his hair, sighing happily. 

The Warden continued to undress Zevran, working so hastily it was taking longer than usual to remove even the simple belt around his waist. He couldn’t concentrate, found he couldn’t focus. His eyes were clouded by a vision of his father, beaming with pride even as he lay mortally wounded; he saw his mother, how she had smiled at him with tears in her eyes when Duncan took him away. 

Another flash came before his mind’s eye, a memory of happier times. It had been one of mother’s parties, the whole family had been there and near a hundred of their closest friends. He saw them all in bits and pieces, his parents, his brother Fergus and his wife and child. They had all been so happy, hadn’t they? 

No, not always so. That same party his father had spotted him outside in the conservatory with one of the guests’ son involved in a very intimate situation. Afterward, there had been a veritable showdown between him and his dear relations, none of which were pleased with his escapades. 

His mother had started crying, she only wanted him to be happy, to one day have a family of his own, and she saw no future for him if he couldn't settle down. Fergus had begun yelling, demanding to know how he could be so selfish, why was he making mother upset. His father had barely spoken a word to him. Everyone had been so angry, how he had hated them for that night. 

A newer memory slid through the fighting, a vision of Oren and Oriana crumpled on the floor, slain by Howe’s men. He dared to wonder how he could have ever hated his family, guilted by the pain of their tragic loss. It instantly erased any of the old rage, his anger at the bitter recollection flooded by waves of grief. 

The Warden shuddered, clawing his hands over Zevran’s back as he threw the last of his gear aside. The past hurt, the memories stung as deeply as if he was reliving that terrible night all over again. Arl Howe was dead, wasn’t that supposed to bring him peace? Wasn’t he supposed to feel better? 

The Warden helped Zevran take off his clothes, pressing him against one of the supporting columns of the room as he continued his onslaught of rough kisses. Zevran’s fingers danced through his hair, caressing the sides of his face as their tongues ran together, deepening their kiss. 

The Warden began scooting Zevran downwards towards the floor. Even in the midst of his desire, he knew that they did not have much time to spare for their tryst. He growled earnestly, his hands racing over his lover’s lean body, grabbing him by his waist from off the support of the column and pinning him on the floor.

Zevran squirmed as he felt his back collide with the sticky pool of blood still oozing out from the Arl’s body. He was slightly repulsed, realizing with a shudder that it was still warm. He didn’t get much time to think about it. The Warden had already grabbed the oil and rubbed himself down, quickly slamming his aching erection into the elf.

Zevran cried out, his back arching as the Warden continued to work himself in. His initial thrust had almost been cruel, but hearing Zevran whimper made him take some measure of control back from his passions. The Warden took his time, slowly riding his hips against Zevran until he was able to enter him fully without causing his lover any more discomfort.

Zevran let his head drop against the floor, now not even caring he was laying in a mess of blood. The Warden didn’t seem to care either. Every stroke of the Warden’s body into his made him shiver with pleasure, his hands firmly grabbing his lover’s thighs and guiding his movements.

The Warden had wrapped his arms around Zevran, cradling him close. He buried his face against his lover’s shoulder, gasping for breath. He didn’t want to think about his family, his revenge, his pain. He only wanted to think about this moment right now, being in Zevran’s embrace and how damn good it felt to be with him.

This was what he wanted; he wanted to feel this passion, this joy, this desire forever. He didn’t want to hurt anymore, he wanted to be happy; and he found that, all of it, with Zevran. He was confused by how strongly he cared for the elf, but he forced himself plunge face forward into it despite his nagging fears.

It was here with him that he found solace, here that his mind was able to find peace from all the fiends of the past torturing him. He soon had pushed all the terrible memories away, all he saw was Zevran’s face, torn in a beautiful mask of pleasure with his eyes burning into his.

The Warden couldn’t stand it any longer, he needed Zevran, wanted him inside him. He pulled out hurriedly, his hands sliding across the bloody floor as he moved onto his knees. He felt Zevran’s hands on his back, his lover knew exactly what to do. He sighed, feeling the elf’s quick tongue run up his inner thigh and against his taint, wetting his delicate rim.

Zevran mounted his eagerly awaiting Warden, slowly slipping his rigid member inside him. He bit his lip, lewdly watching his cock slide in and out at a tortuously slow rhythm. He grunted as the Warden bucked his hips against him and reached a hand back to grab his rear, urging him to increase his pace.

Zevran gladly fulfilled his lover’s request, slamming into him with a savage vigor, and the sound of the Warden’s resulting moans was music to his ears. As the Warden’s hand stayed back to stroke Zevran’s sack, the elf knew he would not able to hold out much longer.

“Come on,” the Warden growled desperately, sensing Zevran’s climax was close. He wanted him to finish, he wanted to hear the delicious cry of his lover’s orgasm and feel him pump every last drop into him. “Come!”

Zevran could not resist his plea, and he purred loudly as he gave the Warden every last bit of what he desired. The Warden slumped onto the floor, rolling over on his back and Zevran collapsed beside him, heaving in ecstasy as the last tremors of his orgasm left him.

The elf knew his lover had not finished and reached a hand across his stomach, intent on helping him find his own sweet end. To his surprise, the Warden grabbed his hand and pulled it away from his still stiff erection, murmuring, “No.”

“No?” Zevran echoed, frowning sourly. He scoffed but put on a smug smile, teasing, “You realize I have a reputation to consider, yes? What kind of lover would I be if I did not please you to the fullest?“

“No,” the Warden repeated sternly, again pushing Zevran’s wandering hand away. He didn’t want to explain to Zevran why he didn’t care about coming but equally didn’t want to hurt his lover’s pride. He swallowed back a sigh, adding, “We’ll have more time later. We do have… other things to attend to.” The Warden was up on his feet, snatching up his gear and quickly dressing himself.

“You may think that this is fine, my Warden,” Zevran huffed, sitting up and retrieving his gear, “But I really do have a reputation to think of. My erotic adventures are practically legend in Antiva! I’ve even heard young whores make offerings in my name despite it being violation of Chantry teachings in hope they can achieve the tiers of pleasure I am capable of! I cannot let such an offense as this stand in good conscience!”

“Zevran,” the Warden said suddenly, interrupting his lover’s jovial rant.

The elf paused, his head cocking to the side curiously, asking, “Yes?”

The Warden hesitated, unsure if he should speak the thoughts crowding his head. Moments ago, he had just brought the worst tragedy of his life to a bitter end; and ‘end’ was a word he used loosely. He knew that the pain of his family’s loss was something that would continue to haunt him for some time. Even so, he had managed to obtain some sense of closure, justice, and in the wake of his agony, the only thing he had wanted was the love of this man standing in front of him.

He knew that his feelings for Zevran would only continue to flourish, despite being unsure of how to define them. Even now, smudged with the Arl’s blood and flushed from their love making, the Warden could not recall ever seeing such a beautiful man. He felt only the utmost affection and gratitude for him, especially for being at his side with ready arms to comfort him once the last drop of the Arl’s blood had fallen.

None of this, however, did he wish to express to Zevran at that moment. Perhaps there would be a time but this was not it. He knew he wasn’t ready to that plunge and he doubted that Zevran was any closer at being ready to hear it.

Instead, the Warden sweetly kissed the elf’s cheek, saying, “I promise, once we’re back at camp? I will allow you to take any and all actions you deem necessary to repair any possible wounds to your repute as the finest lover in all of Thedas.”

Zevran narrowed his eyes, suspicious that the Warden had not said all that he had intended. He wanted to press the issue; after all, their relationship had nearly ended before because the Warden had been holding back from him. As equally as he suspected that the Warden was hiding something, he knew this was not the right time to pursue it. 

Despite how content the Warden seemed, Zevran could see the wall of grief that still trapped him. Even though his curiosity nagged at him, he decided it was better to leave it alone. He put the errant thoughts aside, laughing as he purred, “You had better! It is, after all, the least you can do for getting me covered in blood. I am now absolutely filthy, you realize.”

“Strange,” the Warden taunted, nipping at the elf’s ear as he gleefully hissed, “I don’t recall having heard any complaints at the time?”

Zevran snorted, sneering, “Regardless, I am going to add this to the list of what I’m planning to do to you later to make up for all these grievous offenses. Now, let us go, there is a queen that requires saving and such.”

“Zevran?” the Warden said, his tone taking a surprisingly tender note.

“Yes, Warden?” the elf asked slowly, not sure what to expect.

“If I don’t get a chance later or perhaps if I forget or something happens, I do want to tell you,” the Warden replied carefully, adjusting the last few fasteners on his armor. He paused, meeting Zevran’s eyes with a passionate stare, finishing sincerely, “Thank you.”

Zevran only nodded, smiling. He didn’t need to say anything more. A happy sigh passed over his mouth as the Warden managed to steal one more kiss before their very angry and impatient comrades finally opened the door. By this time, both Zevran and the Warden had fortunately managed to finish dressing themselves and ignoring the annoyed glares, quickly moved out to complete their mission.

As they hurried through the maze of hallways, despite the seriousness of the task at hand, Zevran realized he was still smiling. The way the Warden had looked at him had stirred such a warmth within him that he still carried it with him as they dashed towards where the queen was awaiting her rescue.

And the passion in which the Warden had thanked him, those two seemingly small words carrying such emotion Zevran didn’t even know any way in the common tongue to express it. The Warden didn't need to tell him what his gratitude was for. Zevran already knew why, and he would have gladly done it all over again, without any hesitation. 

Except that bit where he got covered in blood, he thought with a shudder. Should a situation ever again rise where the Warden wanted a tryst in close vicinity to a fresh corpse, Zevran firmly decided he would argue against it.

Or perhaps just put a blanket down.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! What a hot mess. More tweaks and things, but I'm much happier with it now. And honestly, playing the Cousland storyline, I wish there was a better sense of closure after you kill Howe. I dunno. Some extra bit of dialogue, just /something/! This was a huge moment for the Warden, and it's sort of meh to me. Anyway. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
